


i’ve become so numb (i can’t feel you there)

by xHeyKYJx



Category: GOT7
Genre: Anxiety, Anxiety Disorder, Fluff and Angst, Kunpimook Bhuwakul | BamBam-centric, Little!bambam, M/M, Multi, Panic Attacks
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-03-09
Updated: 2019-03-09
Packaged: 2019-11-06 19:24:30
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,230
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17945675
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/xHeyKYJx/pseuds/xHeyKYJx
Summary: Bambam is a little and his memebers don’t know until they basically out him.





	i’ve become so numb (i can’t feel you there)

**Author's Note:**

  * For [HOSHITAMTAM](https://archiveofourown.org/users/HOSHITAMTAM/gifts).



  
It’s no secret that Bambam is a touchy person. He absolutely _loves_  receiving physical affection, and he also loves giving it. He’s a sweet boy with good intentions, but everyone makes mistakes, of course, even people like Bambam. And his other members are no exception.

The downfall of an already stressful day begins during dance practice. They’re all taking a break in different states of sweaty exhaustion throughout the room. Bambam is sitting on the floor, leaning against the mirror as he looks across the room at Jinyoung and Jaebum, who seem to be having a “moment.” They’re facing each other, leaning against the back of the sofa, and their cute smiles and small, lingering touches make Bambam long to be touched like that, to be smiled at like that.

Ever since he’s moved into his own apartment, Bambam’s been lonely. He sees his members nearly every day, but it’s just not the same. He has four cats, and of course he loves them, but they don’t fill the six human-sized holes in his heart. Bambam misses the old days, back when he was shorter and cuter and no one could resist his bright eyes and cute cheeks. Those times have passed, though, and Bambam was never ready for the transition. Even years later, he’s struggling to come to terms with the lack of attention he’s been getting.

Slowly, with aching muscles and creaky joints, Bambam stands and shuffles across the room to meet the mom and dad of the group on the little black sofa. He flops down next to Jinyoung and sinks into the plush cushions; he’s forgotten how comfortable these practice room couches really are.

“Hyung,” Bambam whines, tugging gently on Jinyoung’s sleeve. “Hyung, hold me.” But it’s one of those frequent moments when Bambam forgets that he’s twenty one years old and he feels like he’s fifteen again. So, of course, his once-considered-cute whine only makes Jinyoung look at him in irritation over his shoulder. The man tugs his sleeve away and holds his arm, as if Bambam had hurt him.

“Stop,” Jinyoung says. “Quit acting like a kid, Bambam, you aren’t cute.” As he talks he turns away, like even speaking one sentence to him is too much.

Suddenly Bambam remembers all the times his hyungs and Yugyeom have pushed him away, called him annoying or clingy or stupid. It’s like a spiral, it just keeps going down, doesn’t stop, and Bambam can feel his heartbeat against his chest. His lungs feel tingly, almost, and he can’t breathe in all the way. He digs his fingernails into his palms hard as he shifts onto his back. He stares at the ceiling, counts his breaths for a minute until he calms down again. When he takes a furtive glance around the room, no one is looking, and that relieves him. Everyone is tired, and he doesn’t want to burden them with his stupid panic attacks.

“Alright, guys,” Jaebum sighs, standing. “Let’s do another run through and then we’re done for the day, alright?”

Bambam can’t bring himself to cheer like everyone else.

 

 

They drive in two separate vans to some Chinese restaurant that Bambam can’t remember the name of. Manager’s treat, since they’ve all been doing so well lately, he said. No one objected.

Bambam is in the second van with Mark, Jackson, Youngjae and Yugyeom. Youngjae and Mark are talking in the seats in front of him, and he’s squished between the window and Jackson. It feels nice to be so close to someone, even if it isn’t on purpose. Bambam misses physical touch a lot, maybe too much, but it’s just _so nice_. How can he ever resist something so sweet and warm?

Bambam drops his head onto Jackson’s shoulder. He’s tired, so, so tired, and he’s isn’t even hungry. His stomach feels tight from his little panicky-moment earlier, and he just wants to go home and sleep. At the same time, though, he wants to take every opportunity available to spend time with his other members.

Jackson shrugs his head off, and a pang of hurt stabs through Bambam’s chest. “Don’t,” Jackson mutters, not looking at him. “I’m not in the mood, Bam.”

Bambam feels that almost unbearable fluttering deep in his belly that brings with it a horribly nauseous feeling. He bites the inside of his cheek and sits up, struggling with his breathing exercises. _In four, hold one, out four. In four, hold one, out four_ , but it’s more like _in one, can’t hold, out two_.

When they get to the restaurant after what feels like forever, the mere thought alone of eating anything makes Bambam want to vomit, so he decides he won’t get anything. He plans out his script nervously in his head. _It’s okay, hyung, I’m just no hungry_. A part of him wonders if they’ll even notice. Or care.

It’s during the meal that things really get out of hand. Bambam feels drop-dead exhausted and sick to his stomach, and he wants desperately for someone to hold him and call him “baby” and play with his hair. They’re seated in a booth, Bambam on the end next to Jaebum, and as their menus get taken away Bambam tries to hold his leader’s hand. Of course, Jaebum yanks it away and shoots Bambam a nasty glare.

“Don’t do that,” he hisses. The lazy chatter around the table slowly halts. “You’re so weird, Bambam. How come you still act like you’re a trainee, huh?”

It all comes rushing back: the way Bambam would hide in his room at night when he first became a trainee, sucking on his thumb and holding his stuffed bear like a lifeline. He remembers so many people calling him out on his childish behavior, like how he loved being coddled and treated like a baby.

 _A baby_.

Because that’s all he is, isn’t he? A fucking _baby_. He’s twenty one, and he still wants to be a kid. It’s disgusting and pathetic, and he focuses on forgetting those days when he was open, when he was able to be himself without a care in the world because the more he thinks about it the more he wants it, the more he wishes he could do that now. He just wants to act the way he is, but he can’t. Of course he can’t. It’s weird and it makes people uncomfortable.

“Bambam?” Mark sounds worried, and when Bambam looks at his hyung he looks weird and blurry.

 _He’s crying_.

“I’m gonna use the bathroom,” Bambam gasps. His chest is full of pressure, so full and he can’t breathe, _he can’t breathe, why can’t he breathe?_

Someone calls his name but he can’t stop, he has to get out of here, away from all these prying eyes. Thank Christ the bathroom is a single, and the second he manages to get the door closed Bambam collapses onto the floor in a mess of broken sobs and wheezing breaths. It’s terrifying, he thinks, feeling like he’s drowning on land.

Bambam struggles to move himself in front of the toilet. His stomach is a mess of cramps and he hates puking more than anything, but he’d much rather do it in the toilet than all over himself.

Someone knocks on the door.

“Bambam-ah?” Youngjae’s voice is sweet and gentle, so, so gentle. Nobody’s spoken to Bambam like that in a long time, and it makes his heart ache with pointless longing. His head feels fuzzy, and at first he thinks it’s due to lack of air, but then he realizes it’s because he’s slipping.

 _Fuck_.

He can’t slip. He just can’t. Not now, not ever. His members don’t know about this side of him, the one he’s kept hidden for years, and he plans to keep it that way. His head begins to clear and he swallows tightly, clenching his fingers as tightly as he can around the toilet seat.

“Bammie?” Youngjae tries again, and all of Bambam’s control goes completely out the window.

“Hyung,” he whimpers. The tears start up again, rolling down his cheeks and neck, and he sobs. “Hyung, I need help!”

Youngjae comes in, eyebrows furrowed and forehead creased. “Oh, Bam-ah,” he whispers, crouching down low. “Are you sick? Does your stomach hurt?” Bambam latches onto Youngjae’s shirt. “Hyung,” he whimpers, and Youngjae suddenly goes still. For a moment neither of them says anything, and Bambam grows impatient; he just wants his hyung to hold him. What’s so hard about that?

“Bambam,” Youngjae says slowly. “Are you... little? Right now?” Bambam thinks he ought to be shocked, horrified, even, that Youngjae’s figured him out so easily, but he doesn’t have the energy. He forgoes answering over pressing his nose into the juncture between Youngjae’s jaw and his shoulder.

“Okay,” Youngjae whispers. “Okay, okay, okay.” He carefully sits back on his ass and holds Bambam gently, rubbing his back almost hesitantly. Bambam practically keens at the attention. All he can think about is how tired he is after two near-panic attacks and then a full one. He closes his eyes and takes a deep breath, satisfied at the way his lungs fill without a hitch. Before he can stop himself, he’s asleep.

 

 

When Bambam opens his eyes, he’s surrounded by the warm comfort of Yugyeom’s almond-like scent, and he’s forgotten how good his only dongsaeng really smells. He inhales deeply, eyes still closed, and hums a little in satisfaction. The next best thing besides cuddling with the maknae himself is cuddling with his bed.

_His... bed?_

Bambam isn’t in his own bed. He isn’t in his own house, either.

He sits up straight, and the sudden movement makes his stomach hurt a little. He hasn’t eaten anything since lunch yesterday, he realizes. At least, he assumes it’s the next day. It was late last night at the restaurant when he fell asl—

 _Shit_.

It all comes rushing back: the panic attack, Youngjae, falling asleep on Youngjae, _being little in front of Youngjae_. Bambam wants to cry. How is he supposed to get of the dorms without anyone seeing him and asking him endless questions? He’s sure they all saw him last night. How could they not have?

“You’re awake!” Bambam startles from his thoughts. Jackson is standing at the door, looking in on him with a smile that looks a bit tense. He sounds much happier than he did yesterday, though.

“Hey,” Bambam mutters, looking away. He can’t even look Jackson in the eye. How is he supposed to ever again, after Jackson shrugged him off? He must be thinking about it still, too. He must remember how annoying Bambam is whenever he looks at him, like right now.

“Are you hungry?” Jackson asks. The hesitation in his voice makes Bambam nervous, but he nods. “Yeah, sure.”

They head off toward the dorm’s small, cozy kitchen. As they go they pass the others in the living room gathered around Mark’s computer, and Bambam’s blood runs cold. He isn’t stupid. He knows exactly what they’re looking up, and before he can stop himself he calls them out.

“You know now, right?” When they all turn to look at him, some surprised, some guilty, some subtly trying to hide the computer screen, Bambam notices that Youngjae looks the guiltiest of them all. He swallows tightly. “I’m a freak,” he says, and his voice breaks. His eyes burn, and he wants so badly to cry and be held, but he can’t do either of those things. Not now that they know.

“I’m sorry,” he gasps. His lungs feel like they’re stuttering, like he can’t breathe straight, but this isn’t a panic attack.

“I’m sorry if I made you uncomfortable, I know it’s weird and wrong and I’m _sorry_ —“

It’s Jinyoung who cuts him off first.

“No,” he snaps. Then he softens a bit when Bambam shrinks back into himself. “No, Bambam, we’re the ones who should be sorry. We should’ve noticed, or been better to you at the very least. You should have been able to come to us and tell us comfortably, and we made it so that you couldn’t do that. I’m... I’m sorry.” Jinyoung looks and sounds so sincere, more so than Bambam has ever heard him, and it makes his tears spill over. Behind him, Jackson coos.

“Aww, our baby,” he says sweetly, wrapping his arms around Bambam’s waist. “Don’t cry, angel, you’re okay. It’s okay, we love you. Right, guys?”

Everyone makes affirmative noises, and Bambam can’t help but begin to sob. This unbearable pressure to hide himself, to be who he’s not, has suddenly been lifted from his shoulders after nearly five years, and it only took a few words. If he had known how easy this would be, Bambam would’ve come clean a long, long time ago. He tries to feel regretful, even hateful, but he can’t, not when he feels so loved for and cared about.

It feels so good.

 

 

Later, when they’re all curled up together in Jaebum’s bed (somehow) and they’re watching _Friends_  on Mark’s laptop, Bambam cries a little bit. They’re happy tears, though, because it feels so good when Jackson plays with his hair and Yugyeom rubs his legs and Mark and massages his belly. He feels young again, like he’s fifteen and openly little and he’s thriving.

He can’t ever give this up, he thinks.

**Author's Note:**

> So much thanks to @jincess for organizing this whole fic exchange. It was so much fun to participate in, and it gave me more inspiration to start writing again!
> 
> I hope you enjoyed. Feel free to point out any mistakes!
> 
> <3


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